


The Ways You Come Back to Me

by irishavalon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ficlet, M/M, Post-15x18, Post-15x19, Post-Season/Series 15, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:07:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29690646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishavalon/pseuds/irishavalon
Summary: A series of ficlets of unconnected possible scenes for when Cas comes back after 15x18.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 27





	1. Begin Again (Jack helps bring Cas back)

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a series of unconnected reunion and post-reunion ficlets. They felt too short to be their own fics, and the inspiration left me before I could add context to the beginning of the scenes, but I've been starving for reunion fics since November 5, so I thought maybe other people were too. 
> 
> (One last thing: I haven't watched consistently since about season 12/13, and I only watched 15x18 and 15x19 straight through. As a result, I may have gotten a few small details incorrect. Hopefully it's not too distracting.)

Jack stops speaking, his eyes stop glowing. Silence stretches, long and terrible, throughout the room. 

“Did it work?” Dean demands, though he can see that he isn’t here. He doesn’t hear that voice. 

Sam shrugs; Jack’s eyes find his, wide with fear and hope. Dean’s heart stutters in his chest. 

_ Please no. _

And then his phone rings.

  
  


He’s standing alone in...is it a building? The walls are wood, the structure creaks in the wind. Hay litters the floor beneath his dress shoes. He’s alone.

Shaking hands plunge into his trenchcoat pockets, searching for his phone. He finds it and finds Dean’s number in his contacts. His hands are still trembling. He holds it to his ear and the call takes awhile to connect, and as he waits for the ring, he wonders idly if this is some sick trick from the Empty.

But it prefers quiet, prefers to sleep without disturbance. It wouldn’t force him to see this. It wouldn’t plan this kind of torture. This is  _ real _ .

The call connects.

Dean answers on the first ring. 

“Cas?”

The familiar rumble of his voice through the receiver makes Cas shut his eyes tight. He feels the prickle of tears, the relief in his chest, the memory of his last words to him.

_ I love you. _

_ Good-bye, Dean. _

“Dean,” he says at last, his voice steadier than he expected it to be. 

  
  
  


“Where are you?” As soon as he hears Cas’s voice, Dean almost sinks to his knees in relief.  _ He’s alive _ . He wants to run to wherever the Hell the Empty dropped him.  _ Why isn’t he here? _

  
  


Cas looks around himself, as though the ruined structure he has been placed in will reveal street names, or a zip code, or coordinates. Nothing. 

“I don’t know,” he says, voice trembling now as he looks. “I--” He stops, eyes falling on the doorway. Black, spray-painted sigils. Shell casings and buckshot in the hay. Eleven-year-old half-burned candles, collecting dust in the corners. 

Dean doesn’t hear the pause. “It’s okay. I’ll track your phone. We’ll be--”

“No, you don’t need to do that.” Cas says stiffly. “I know where I am. I’m in the barn.”

  
  


Dean looks at Sam. “The barn? What barn?” He asks into the phone.

Almost immediately, Sam slaps his forehead and gawks at Dean. “ _ The _ barn!” He mouths. 

“In Pontiac,” Cas says. “The barn where--”

“--we met,” Dean finishes. 

  
  


“Yeah,” Cas says, staring around still, trying to wrap his head around what this might mean. 

“I’m coming.” Dean says, and Cas can hear the distant sound of running on the other end, footsteps echoing throughout the bunker. He hears Dean barking orders to Jack and Sam, can picture them following after him as fast as they can, and Cas’s heart aches. Maybe Dean doesn’t love him back, but he’s not so horrified or uncomfortable over Cas’s admission that he no longer wants anything to do with him. That’s something, at least.

“Cas?” The background noise on Dean’s end is silent. Maybe he’s already outside, maybe already in the car. 

“Yes?”

“Are you okay?” Dean asks. Cas smiles, closing his eyes again. He almost pictures Dean’s face, but his throat starts to close, and he can’t. He swallows.

“Yes. Yes, Dean, I’m okay.”

  
  


Dean stands against the hood of the Impala. He squeezes his eyes shut and runs a hand down his face. He lets out a breath. “Okay. Stay where you are. We’re coming.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you soon. Bye.” He hangs up before he can hear those words from Cas again. His last words. As long as he lives, he  _ never _ wants to hear Cas say it again.

  
  


Cas doesn’t notice the line’s gone dead. “Good-bye, Dean,” he says to the disconnected call. He hangs up and opens up his GPS app, sitting down on an overturned crate. The little pin on the map is in the middle of swathes of gray. He has to move the map a few centimeters with his finger to find any major roads. He opens his saved locations and clicks on the only entry, which Dean had helped him plug in when he’d downloaded the app for Cas.

The bunker doesn’t have an address; it doesn’t show up on the map. The location is actually for a diner down the street from the bunker, but Dean changed the label anyway.  _ Home. _

He clicks on it, and the map refreshes to the route. Four hours. He sighs, locking the phone but keeping it in his hands. 

“I’ll just wait here, then.” He mutters, then huffs a small laugh at the memory. 

_ Don’t ever change _ .

But he  _ had _ changed, he told Dean so. He was already changing when Dean said those words, though he didn’t realize it at the time. 

He looks around the room, allowing his mind to transport him to the last time he was in this barn. He’d been so different then. Dean had been so different, too. So angry at the world, so aggressive, still following his father’s creed to the letter, though John Winchester had been dead for a while by then. 

And Cas? He was just following orders. Retrieve the righteous man from Hell, restore his body and his soul, and return him to Earth. In the beginning, he hadn’t felt anything for Dean. Not admiration, not respect, not care, and certainly not love. He’d hardly felt anything close to the human spectrum of emotion at all. 

But he’d been curious. What was it about this one human that set him apart, that caused Heaven,  _ God _ , to rewrite his story and break his deal with Hell? He couldn’t even hear Cas’s true voice. He wondered why this man was saved. So he followed him. So much of what the man did and said were a mystery to Cas, having spent his most of his millenia-long life in Heaven, away from the other planes, from humans. 

So when he watched the man and an older man try to summon him, he showed. He spread his wings and appeared in the barn with the best vessel he could find. And perhaps he was trying to impress the men a bit, appearing in all his heavenly glory. But he saw their wide eyes, their gaping mouths, and felt their overwhelming fear.

The righteous man, for all he was graced by Heaven, didn’t know what Cas was. He shot at him, with salt rounds and silver bullets. His companion tried to banish Cas, to trap him, to repel him. When Cas got close enough, the man stabbed him with a demon blade. 

That’s when Cas saw the anger in the human’s eyes break, watched the fear leak out. 

_ “You don’t think you deserve to be saved?” _ The angel asked, tilting his head. He was surprised, but still curious. Perhaps now the man would offer up an explanation. Why was Cas tasked to rescue him? Who was he? Why did God care so much about one man?

But he had no idea. And for years since, Cas has tried to tell him why. Sam has tried to tell him why. Bobby tried. Angels and demons have even tried, albeit mockingly. 

And all those reasons, every word Cas said to Dean in the dungeon as the Empty breathed down his neck, are why Cas couldn’t stay away from him. The curiosity and fascination gave way to respect and friendship, as Cas’s hard edges softened with every moment spent around Dean. And then, and Cas can’t pinpoint exactly when, friendship gave way to something different. Something that, the longer he felt it, the harder it was to ignore. Maybe that’s when Cas felt he was becoming more human, regardless of how much of his grace he had left. It is a very human feeling, love. Especially the all-consuming, unignorable love Cas feels for Dean. 

Cas loves him, and he thought admitting it would be the last time he saw Dean. It hurt, it broke his heart and brought him to tears. But he thought he wouldn’t have to hear Dean rejecting him. He could love and he could die and he could be dragged into the Empty with pure joy in his heart.

But he’s back. Somehow. Did his family bring him back? Did the Empty regurgitate him into this unassuming shack where his heart first started to beat? Did Chuck bring him back, yet again? 

The familiar creak and slam of the car doors brings Cas back to the present. He stands up shakily, dropping his phone into his pocket. Has it really been four hours already?

Outside, Dean is terrified. He knows what he has to do, he’s desperate to see Cas again, but part of him worries he’s not brave enough. It’s been eleven years since Cas strode into his life in this very barn, looking even more dilapidated than it had then. And how many years in that time has this thing, this feeling, been inside him, smothered every time it lifted its head? Out of fear, out of shame, out of the memory of his dad and the brand of masculinity John raised him to be. So much to unlearn, so much he still struggles to let go of, to ignore. He doesn’t know if he’s ready, even now.

But one thing Cas has taught him is to be brave. He thought he was, but so much about himself, about what he feels, scares the crap out of him. But if Cas can do it, so can he. He owes the angel, his best friend, his family, his  _ everything, _ that much.

For something to do, he helps Sam pull open the barn door, though Sam doesn’t need the assistance. Jack enters first, running, as though Cas will vanish if he doesn’t get to the angel fast enough. Dean’s heart is pounding in his chest, and though he’s just as desperate, he allows Cas’s surrogate son to see him first. And then he enters the barn.

The memories come flooding back. Prepping the weapons, the sigils, the spells with Bobby. The fear he tried so hard to repress and the anger he forced to the surface. Black wings and brilliant light and an unknown being in a trenchcoat and blue tie. 

The self-same being stands on the other side of the barn, in the same coat and tie, and the sight is like coming home. If Dean still had any doubt of his feelings for the angel, that realization would have destroyed it. 

Cas has his arms around Jack and his eyes on Dean. He looks okay, alive and uninjured. 

Jack steps away and Dean approaches. Trying to diffuse the tension, he raises his hands a bit and jokes, “I’m not gonna stab you this time.”

Cas smiles shakily, but doesn’t look away. He’s drinking him in, staring at Dean as intensely as he always does. 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says. 

The tears of relief that spring to Dean’s eyes at those familiar words surprise him.

“Cas,” he gasps, finally closing the distance. And then he can’t speak. He pulls Cas in, clinging tightly. 

Cas feels Dean clutch the back of his trenchcoat, hears the gasping sobs coming from him.

“Cas,” Dean says again, swallowing shakily and pressing his face into Cas’s shoulder. He breathes in Cas’s scent of petrichor and ozone. He has to get it out. Cas doesn’t deserve to pass a single moment more without knowing. “I’m sorry I didn’t respond. Before the Empty took you.”  _ Away from me _ , he adds to himself.

“Dean, you don’t have to--” Cas starts to pull away, but Dean clutches him tighter.

“Yes, I do. I should have said something. I should have told you. You… Cas, you changed me, too.” He has to see Cas’s face. He pulls away, but clutches Cas’s shoulders. Cas’s blue eyes stare into his flooded hazel ones, confusion and disbelief swirling in their depths. “Maybe I’m all those things you said to me--”

“You  _ are _ .”

“But you’ve made me that way. Or taught me to act on it more. I should have said it sooner. I should have told you years ago. Every time you died, every time you were taken from me, it’s like everything stopped.” Dean’s voice breaks on the last word and he has to swallow messily before continuing. Cas can’t believe he’s hearing this from Dean’s mouth. He never allowed himself to even imagine this. “Nothing mattered. Not hunting, not saving people, not even living. Every time you were killed, I was sure it was the last time. Just further proof not to let people in, not to care about anyone, because I was just going to lose them sooner or later. 

“And then, every time I got you back, every time you found me or I found you, it was like waking up. It was like breathing again. Like I’d been brought back to life, too. And then I would shove those feelings down, because if I ever told you, if you ever knew that I--- I was afraid you’d leave again. That you’d  _ choose _ to leave. 

“And then last week you said all of that to me.” Dean huffs a self-conscious laugh and wipes his eyes. “I couldn’t believe it. And I just  _ knew _ I was going to lose you. You finally said what I refused to let myself dream you’d say, and I wasn’t going to be able to keep you with me. All I could think was that you were saying good-bye, and all I could do was prepare myself to lose you. And I couldn’t say it back. And I’m so sorry for that.”

Dean brings a trembling hand to cup Cas’s neck, guiding his head down so he can press his forehead to the angel’s. He feels Cas’s shaky exhale against his lips, his wet cheeks against his own. “I love you, Cas,” Dean murmurs, and watches Cas squeeze his eyes shut, more tears seeping out between his long, dark eyelashes. Dean shifts the hand cupping Cas’s neck up a bit so he can swipe the tears away with his thumb. “So damn much. I don’t know when it started, but I know it’s been years. I love you.” For the first time in a week, maybe longer, Dean smiles. Because Cas loves him. Because Cas is home and alive and safe. Because now, at last, Cas knows Dean loves  _ him _ . Cas lets out a sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and then breathes the word, his favorite word in any language. 

“ _ Dean.” _

“Can I kiss you?” Dean asks.

“ _ Please _ .”

Dean closes the distance between them, pressing his lips to Cas’s. Cas’s lips are warm and a little chapped and slightly parted, and it’s the best kiss Dean has ever had. Their tears mix and fingers grip shoulders and thread through hair. 

At last, they pull away to breathe. Cas smiles at him and Dean grins back, bringing both hands up to wipe Cas’s tear-stained cheeks. “Are these good tears or bad?” Dean asks.

Cas laughs. “Good. Very good.” Dean kisses him again. 

When they part again, Cas catches sight of Dean’s sleeve. It’s the same jacket he was wearing when Cas saw him last. There’s a bloody handprint on his shoulder, the same shoulder that he--

“Did I do this?” Cas asks, brushing his fingers against the print.

Dean follows his eyes, then looks back up at his face in surprise. “Are you telling me you didn’t mean to do that?”

Cas shakes his hand. “I didn’t mean to give you the other one, either,” he says, pressing his hand in the same place as the burn. Dean doesn’t say anything, too busy gazing at Cas. He can do this now: stare his fill. It feels like a weight off his chest, having it out in the open. Having it returned.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Let’s go home, Cas.”

They walk out of the barn together, where Sam and Jack wait by the car. Dean steps away for a moment to give Sam space to greet and hug Cas. Dean steps over to Jack.

“Thank you.” he says.

Jack smiles. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m glad I was able to bring him back.”

Sam gets in the back with Jack to allow Cas to take shotgun. Dean starts up the engine and then looks at Cas. After just a moment of hesitation, he reaches over and puts his hand on Cas’s knee. It’s terrifying and thrilling to be able to touch him like this. He thinks he’s going to be doing it a lot more.

Cas looks at him for a moment, and then smiles down at Dean’s hand. Finally he brings his own hand to rest it on Dean’s. His eyes meet Dean’s again, and he smiles.

“Let’s go home.” He says.

  
  



	2. I'll Crawl Home to Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An alternate ending to 15x18.
> 
> Title is a reference to Hozier.

Cas steps close as Death continues to hammer on the door. “Good-bye, Dean.” Cas says.

“Cas--” Dean gasps, and then he’s being shoved out of the way. He hits the wall and slides to the floor. He stares at Cas as the panic rises in his throat like bile. Cas gazes down at him, serene, smiling, weeping. Dean can’t stand it.

The approaching Empty roars in Dean’s ears. He can see the inky tendrils as they ooze toward Cas.  _ No. _ He won’t let him go again. He  _ can’t. _

Dean pushes past the shock, past the confusion, the incomprehensible  _ “He loves me” _ for the more urgent  _ “He needs me” _ . “No!” He shouts, and it spurs him into action. He pushes himself to his feet, launches himself toward Cas. He wraps his arms tight around Cas’s waist, presses his face to Cas’s chest, screws his eyes shut. 

“No. What are you---Dean, you  _ can’t _ !” Panic replaces the tranquility in Cas’s voice. He tries to push Dean away. “No. Please.  _ Dean. _ ” His breath hitches. Dean tightens his grip on the angel.

“No, Cas. I’m not losing you again. I can’t… I can’t survive it.” The tears in Dean’s eyes finally spill over, and cries into Cas’s chest, but it’s better than crying alone, without him. The roar in his ears is cut short, plunging them into silence, and Dean knows the Empty has swallowed them up. There is nothing but Cas’s arms around Dean, Cas’s breathing, Dean’s tears.

A long moment passes before Dean feels like they are on solid ground. He pulls away and looks around. The darkness, tangible, presses in around them, on all sides. The blackness feels viscous, alive. 

“Dean Winchester,” a sardonic voice echoes through the plane. Dean whirls around, thinking it must be Billie, taken with them, still prepared to kill him. But then he sees the entity approaching them. It’s not Billie, but the Empty, wearing another’s face. Dean steps in front of Cas before Cas can think to do the same, and spreads his arms wide, protecting him. He won’t let it take Cas from him again. 

The Empty, behind Meg’s likeness, continues to approach, a wicked grin twisting her features as she gazes at Dean. “You don’t belong here. You are human.” The Empty comes to a stop before them. 

“Yeah, well, I’m here.” Dean says. 

“I could send you back. Easily.” It raises a hand.

“You won’t. Not without Cas.”

“Castiel made a deal. His debt has merely been collected. You needn’t stay.” Meg’s face continues to smile at Dean, but behind the mask, Dean senses the Empty. It doesn’t wear its stolen visage well; Dean can feel the blank darkness behind it. 

“If you send me away, I will find a way back. And I will keep coming back. Over and over and over again, however many times it takes until you let him go.” Dean says, surprised his voice remains steady, the closer he dances to his own truth. “And you forget. I know the one who made it loud last time. He’ll make sure it stays loud.”

“You won’t find your way back. Even with the abomination’s help. You think you can scare me?  _ You _ ? I am ageless, timeless. You are nothing. You will never see your angel again, Dean Winchester.”

“Then maybe we can make a deal.” Dean says. 

“Dean,  _ no _ .” Cas begs.

Dean glances back at him. “I’m not leaving without you.”

The Empty cocks Meg’s head. “A deal.” it echoes. “What could a human, even the  _ great, terrible  _ Dean Winchester, have that I could want?”

“The ability to keep you off my shit list.” Dean growls. The Empty laughs, high and clear and cold.

“My dear Winchester, you will have to do better than that.”

“My grace.” Cas says. Dean’s heart leaps into his throat as Cas pushes his arm down and steps beside him. Cas glowers at the Empty. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? The angel, at rest? I’m not an angel without my grace. I’m of no use to you as a human. I wouldn’t belong here, as you just said.”

“What do I want with your grace? The price of the bargain was  _ you _ , Castiel. No, it is time for you to sleep.”

“No, it is time for you to listen.” Dean says. He reaches over, into Cas’s pocket, hand grasping the cool, smooth, unearthly metal and drawing it out. He levels the blade at the Empty. 

“That will do nothing to me.” It dismisses.

“No. But I know what will. So here are the terms. You will take Cas’s grace. You will send us back to Earth. And I will not sic my son on you. He is a lot more powerful than he was last time, growing more powerful by the day. Cas made a deal with you when you took him. What do you think he’ll do when he finds you took his father?” And then he sees it. It’s subtle, buried deep beneath the annoyed, amused look of this powerful entity. He knows what it looks like, no matter how small. 

It’s the look he saw in the eyes of the monsters of purgatory, when he slammed them against a tree and they recognized him.  _ The human looking for his angel _ . The fear of being skewered on the end of Dean Winchester’s blade, the realization of the lengths he would go to get to Cas. To keep him safe.

The Empty isn’t afraid of the blade. It isn’t really even afraid of Jack. But it  _ is  _ afraid, afraid because it knows that Dean isn’t bluffing. That if any human could rip a hole in the fabric of reality and charter a course to the Empty on his own to drag his angel out, it’s Dean Winchester. And the Empty finally  _ knows _ it.

It gestures to Cas, still looking at Dean. “Cut it out, then.”

“And then you’ll send us back to earth?”

“Yes. You’re giving me a headache, and I don’t even have a head. I just want to be left alone. Good luck finding somewhere to go when you die, because you two are  _ not  _ coming back here.”

Cas reaches out a hand for the blade. “No,” the Empty adds. “If you want to leave here, the hunter does it.”

Dean’s eyes widen. He remembers the sensation of his fist colliding with Cas’s face, again and again, hears Cas’s gasped  _ ‘Dean’ _ , remembers the moment Cas snapped him out of it. He remembers blood flowing down his face, watches through swollen, bloody eyes as Cas raises his fist again, feels his shaking hands grasping at Cas’s wrist, hears his own ragged voice  _ ‘I need you’ _ , and the moment Cas’s hand comes back to his face to heal rather than destroy.

“Dean.” Cas’s voice breaks through the spiral of memory, and Dean turns to look at him. “Go on. It’s all right.”

“Will it hurt?” he asks, voice hoarse and raw.  _ I can’t hurt him anymore. I’ve already hurt him too much _ .

“Only for a moment. It will hurt less from you.” Cas’s voice is gentle, soft, and Dean can practically feel the fondness with which Cas gazes at him. 

Cas shows him what to do, how to draw the blade against his throat so the grace flows out but the rest of his human body is left undisturbed. Cas tilts his head back to bare his neck for the blade. Dean threads the fingers of his left hand into Cas’s hair, caressing.

“I love you, too, you know. Have for years.” Dean murmurs. If this goes wrong---well, it’s past time for Cas to know that he’s loved. Dean should have told him a long time ago. Then he slides the blade across Cas’s throat, as gently as he can, if slitting someone’s throat can be gentle. Cas grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut, and Dean remembers what Anna told them about falling.  _ Like cutting out your own kidneys with a butter knife. _ Dean’s heart aches, but he continues the work. As the blade passes through the skin, he sees the blue-white tendrils of Cas’s grace leak out of the wound, flowing out and into the inky black expanse of the Empty like smoke. The last of the grace slips from the slit and heals the cut as it pulls away from the skin. 

Dean watches as the Empty draws the churning, glowing wisps toward itself. And then Cas lets out a gasp and passes out. Dean catches him, drawing the former angel to his chest. 

“If I ever see either of you, or the abomination, again, it will not be fun for you.” The Empty tells him. It makes a cutting motion in the air with its hand, and the next moment he’s back in the bunker, sitting on the floor with Cas in his lap and pressed to his chest. His phone is ringing. 

Dean takes a moment to ensure Cas is breathing and then answers. “Sam.”

“Dean! Everyone’s gone. Like,  _ everyone _ . It’s just Jack and I. Are you and Cas okay?”

Dean sighs in relief. “Yeah, we will be. Look, I can’t really talk right now. We’ll debrief and figure out what to do next when you two get home, but I have to go now.”

“No, Dean, wait--”

“Sammy, we’re okay. I promise. But shit’s gone down and I need to just… I need a minute to breathe. All right? Let’s talk in person.”

Sam is silent for a long moment before he speaks again. Dean imagines him running a hand down his face.  _ Everyone’s gone _ . That means Eileen. Dean saved Cas in time, but Sam was too late for Eileen. Dean’s heart aches for his little brother, but they’ll get her back. They’ll stop Chuck. 

“All right. See you in a few hours.” Sam sounds reluctant, but hangs up. Dean replaces his phone in his pocket just as Cas stirs.

Blue eyes open and find his immediately. “Dean?” Cas asks softly. 

“Hey,” Dean says, and he knows how sappy that word sounds. He can’t help it. Cas  _ loves _ him. “You okay?”

Cas nods and sits up slowly, touching his neck briefly. “I’m all right.”

“Good, because I’m about to slap you.” Dean says. Cas opens his mouth to speak, but Dean doesn’t give him a chance. “You can’t just say all of that and die. You can’t just tell me you love me after  _ twelve years _ and expect me just to let you go.”

“Dean…”

“No, Cas. It’s my turn now. You never see what it does to me, when you die. Every time you’re taken from me or you leave willingly. It  _ destroys _ me, Cas.” His voice shakes. Dean swallows and continues. “It rips me up. I’m lost without you. I lose the will to fucking live. Because everytime I lose you, I think,  _ I never told him _ . And then you come back and there’s always another fight, another hunt, another monster to kill and another cosmic entity to stop. There’s never enough time, never the right moment. And then before I know it, I lose you again, realize I never told you  _ again _ . It’s a vicious cycle and I just want it to  _ stop _ . 

“So I’m done with that. I’m done coming up with excuses not to tell you and then being swallowed by guilt when I lose the chance.” Dean reaches up, cradles Cas’s face with his hands, and  _ oh God _ , Cas is crying again. Cas lets out a wet laugh, and then Dean catches his mouth in a kiss. The relief pools in his gut and thrums through his veins as he presses closer. Cas kisses him back and Dean can’t believe it took him  _ this long _ to kiss Cas. He pulls away just long enough to take a breath and whisper  _ Cas _ against his lips before kissing him again. 

At last they pull away, breathing hard. Cas looks watery in front of him, and Dean realizes he’s crying, too. He presses his forehead against Cas’s and breathes him in. 

“I love you.” he breathes, and it feels as wonderful saying it the second time as it did the first. So he says it again. And Cas smiles and whispers it back. And then they’re laughing, and crying, and grinning, and kissing again. 

“I thought you didn’t….I thought angels  _ couldn’t… _ ” Dean doesn’t think he’s making any sense, but Cas is smiling and shaking his head.

“I  _ do _ . I thought you were straight.”

“So did I.” And then they’re laughing again. “No, I knew,” Dean says seriously when they stop laughing. “I’ve just kept it buried so long, and I never thought anyone could really...that anyone would ever…”

“ _ I  _ do. Almost from the moment I touched you, marked you…” Cas trails off, staring at that shoulder he’d burned his handprint into twelve years ago. Dean follows his gaze, and sees it for the first time. The bloody handprint, drying into the fabric of his jacket.

“I can’t believe you.” Dean says. 

“I didn’t mean to…” Cas starts, but stops when he sees that Dean is laughing. 

“You’ve really got a fetish for my shoulder, don’t you?” Dean teases.

Cas opens his mouth, his expression looking like he’s about to argue, but he seems to realize the absurdity of Dean’s words, and starts laughing, too.

  
  



	3. Hang the Stars or Snuff Out the Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate ending to 15x20.  
> Again, I didn't watch this episode (for so many reasons), but I think most of it is accurate until it's canon divergent.
> 
> The idea for this ficlet came from a head canon I have that John probably didn't vaccinate the boys. Not necessarily because he was an anti-vaxxer (though maybe), but because one, the family was so transient that getting a new doctor for the kids in every town probably wasn't in the cards, and two, I don't think John really knew how to take care of kids. So yeah, it's always Hating John Winchester Hours in this house.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Cas!” He gapes at him. “You’re alive-- wait, am I dead?”

Cas nods. He’s glowering at Dean in a way he hasn’t since… no, yeah, he’s looked at Dean like that often. It’s become almost as frequent an expression as Cas’s Fond Look. It’s not Dean’s fault he keeps doing shit that Cas thinks is stupid.

“Yes, but it’s not time yet. I  _ just _ …. I’m sending you back.”

“What? No! Cas, I need to--” he reaches for Cas, panic rising again. He just got Cas back. He can’t lose him again.  _ No. _

“I’ll be along. It’s not time for you to be here yet.” He’s still almost glaring at Dean. And then he’s reaching out and touching his fingertips to Dean’s temple.

And he’s back again, in the barn. He’s being lifted slowly off the wall, off the piece of rebar. The pain is excruciating all over again and he can’t catch his breath. There are arms around him, but his eyes are squeezed shut and he doesn’t know if it’s Sammy or Cas or some random paramedic.

Then, vaguely, through the pain, Dean feels fingers, feather-soft, against his lower back. A white heat blossoms from that spot, and Dean imagines his body stitching itself back together.  _ Cas. _ It wasn’t some dying-breath hallucination. He’s  _ here _ , holding Dean against him and healing the fatal wound.

The heat fades and the pain doesn’t return. Dean’s legs give way in the sudden relief and he slumps against Cas, breathing him in. Cas holds him up.

“Dean?”

Dean squints his eyes open and sees Sam, still pale with fear and cheeks still tear-stained.

“Sam. I’m all right.” Dean whispers. Sam exhales slowly.

“The hell you are,” Cas growls against him. “I… I  _ fucking _ died for you. You defeated  _ God _ . And a rusty nail beats you? Sam.” He turns back to Sam. “Tomorrow, you two are going to the nearest doctor and getting your vaccinations.  _ All _ of them.”

Sam nods, still looking like he’s in shock. Cas sounds furious, but he doesn’t push Dean away. He doesn’t let go. “I won’t have you dying of tetanus again while I’m helping Jack for a few days.”

“You’re leaving?” Dean lifts his head off Cas’s trench coat-clad shoulder to stare at him. He gets a little distracted when he realizes he hasn’t gotten a good look at Cas. His heart stutters a little when Cas looks back at him, and his face softens when he sees the panic in Dean’s eyes. 

“Not now,” he says carefully, and Dean forces himself to breathe. “Not if you don’t want me to. But Jack might need help later, and I’m not getting surprised by one of you showing up in heaven too early because of… the measles or something.” 

Dean doesn’t stop staring at Cas, trying to convince himself his lip isn’t trembling as he drinks Cas in, blinking and speaking and breathing and  _ alive _ .

“Dean.”

Dean swallows. “Yeah?”

Cas looks at him for a long moment. Then he licks his lips, lets go of Dean, and looks away. Voice soft, he murmurs, “Tell me to--”

“Stay. Please, Cas, just  _ stay _ .” The words tumble over themselves in a rush to get out. Dean tightens his grip on Cas’s waist, staring at him and ignoring the film of tears in his eyes.

“I’m… gonna wait in the car.” Sam says.

Cas breaks eye contact to nod to Sam and murmur, “Thank you, Sam. We’ll be out in a moment.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean sees Sam nod back and walk toward the door of the barn, patting Dean on the shoulder on his way out and saying, “Good to have you back, man.”

And then it’s just Dean and Cas, staring at each other like they won’t stop until the world ends (again). 

“Cas--” Dean says at last, glancing away.

“You don’t have to say anything, Dean.”

“Yeah. Yeah I do. Cas, you can’t… you can’t just say all that stuff and then die without giving me a chance to reply, without giving me a chance to  _ save _ you.”

“I didn’t want you to save me. I was trying to save  _ you _ .” Cas glowers at the bloody spike behind Dean. “Not that it stuck.”

“Stop dying for me.”

Cas meets Dean’s gaze again. “Stop  _ dying _ .”

“Fair enough.”

They stare at each other. This conversation has gotten away from Dean; he tries to retrace it. He’s spent the last two weeks imagining what he’d say to Cas, if only he found a way to get Cas back, or Cas figured out how to get out of the Empty, or Jack pulled him out (like it seems like he did). 

“Cas, you said the one thing you want, you can’t have. But…” It’s now or never. Dean takes a breath; Cas is staring at him like he can’t decide if Dean’s about to hang the stars or snuff out the lights. “You have me.” The words come out as a whisper. “You’ve had me for years, Cas,” he speaks shakily. “I love you, too.”

“You do?” Cas asks, eyes wide. Dean nods. It’s not as hard to say it out loud as he thought it would be. He brings a hand up to cradle Cas’s face, thumb chasing a tear that’s slipped from Cas’s wide, blue eyes.

“Yes,” Dean breathes. Then, louder, “I love you so much, Cas.”

Cas smiles, and Dean mirrors it. A laugh bubbles out of Cas’s throat, and it’s the most beautiful sound in the world. Dean slots his lips against Cas’s, and Cas brings his hand up to card through Dean’s hair. Dean feels Cas’s smile against his mouth and can’t help grinning, too.

They pull away and Cas sobers. “For real, though. No more dying for stupid reasons. Or at all.”

Dean laughs and rests his forehead against Cas’s. “Yeah, yeah, you either, sweetheart.”

  
  



	4. The Deepest Truth of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not sure where this argument came from, but I would place this after Cas comes back at some point but (obviously) before Dean explicitly reciprocates. Dean was probably being self-deprecating and dismissive of Cas's confession, but I certainly don't know.

“Dammit, Dean! Do you think this is temporary? Do you think I was faking it? I summoned the  _ Empty _ by saying it out loud. This is the deepest truth of me. I’ve carried it around for years, knowing it was futile, but loving you anyway. And I can’t take it back. I  _ won’t _ take it back. It was true. It still is. If I had to say it all over again, to save your life, I would. If I had to fight through hell again, stitch your soul back together again, carry you back to earth again, I would. Of  _ course _ , I would. I love you. I didn’t say it for you to say it back. I said it because you needed to hear it, even once, before I died. I said it because nothing else in the universe could have saved you, could’ve saved the  _ world _ , than telling you I love you.”

Dean stares at him, mouth agape. Before he can respond, Cas is barreling through again. “I thought it was going to be the last thing I said to you. I thought I would never see you again. So I’m sorry if you didn’t want to hear it. I’m sorry if I made this awkward. But I won’t apologize for saying it, because I meant it, because you deserved to know.”

“Didn’t want--? Cas, how stupid--? Wait, wait.” Dean takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment and opening them again. “I’m not good at this… this “feelings” thing, you know that. But I’ve spent two weeks thinking about what to say to you, so just give me a minute to gather my thoughts.”

Cas watches him, staring openly like he always has. Only now it’s different, isn’t it? Everything Dean sees is splashed with new light, the world is tilted at a different angle. Cas loves him. Really, truly loves him. Dean can see it in the way Cas tilts his head, just slightly, to the right. He can see it in those wide, baby blue eyes that he swears can see into his soul, even now, as a human. He can see it in the way Cas’s bottom lip is trembling, so subtly someone else probably wouldn’t see it, but Dean’s spent so long staring at him, at his  _ lips _ , that he can. It’s almost too much. He can barely think around Cas as it is, let alone while trying to remember how to tell him.

“You changed me, too.” He says.  _ Have to start somewhere. _ “You’re the first real friend I’ve had my entire life, let alone best friend. You gave me something to believe in. I didn’t believe in God, I didn’t believe in heaven, I didn’t believe in most of the angels. Hell, I didn’t even believe in  _ myself _ most of the time. But, dammit, I believed in you, Cas. I believed in your loyalty, your patience, your stubbornness. You answering my prayers, saving my life over and over and over again, doing what was right in the end. You let me believe I could have more than just my brother as my family. That that wasn’t just okay, but what I desperately needed.

“With the kind of work I do, I can’t afford to care when I lose people. I gotta just bury the pain, cuz if I don’t, I’m gonna burn up. But I couldn’t bury the pain of losing you, and it just got worse every time you died. Ask Sammy, I’m a mess without you. I stop giving a shit about everything, including my own life. The pain of losing you almost killed me more than once.

“I think it happened in purgatory, the first time I realized it. It was in me for years before that, I know, but I first realized it there. How hard I fought to find you, how relieved I was when I saw you again at last. I had to remember how it ended there differently because my brain couldn’t handle the truth. And even with that false memory, even back on earth, I couldn’t stop seeing you everywhere. On the road, outside the motel room, in my dreams.

“But I didn’t say anything. And I didn’t say anything back when you summoned the Empty because I didn’t think you could love me. I didn’t think angels could at all, and even if they can, I didn’t think you would love  _ me _ . And all I could think was that I was losing you again. That you were saying goodbye, that you were saving me for the umpteenth time and there wasn’t shit I could do about it but look at you and beg you not to, even though it was too late. It was both the best and worst night of my goddamn life. How could you have left me with that? Just said all those things to me and told me you loved me and then leave me with that?” Dean scrubs impatiently at the tears falling down his cheeks. He sniffs. “I love you, too, Cas.” He whispers, looking back up at Cas as he speaks. “Of course I love you. How could I not?”

Cas lets out a wet laugh. He’s smiling now, and it’s the most beautiful thing Dean has ever seen. He’ll work the rest of his life to be worthy of Cas, if it means being able to put that smile on his face.

Dean can’t stand not to touch him anymore. He reaches out, and Cas moves towards him. When he’s close enough, Dean cradles Cas’s face in his hands, smiling back.

“I’ve waited twelve fucking years for this, Cas. Can I please kiss you now?”

Cas laughs again and nods. “Yes, Dean. Please kiss me.”

The first press of their lips feels to Dean like coming home, like breathing again after forty years in hell, like Cas’s arms around him after returning to life. It feels like joy, like relief, like all the love in the universe is condensed into this one small kiss. He’s never loved anyone like he loves Cas. He’s perfect, he’s alive, he’s  _ home _ . And he loves Dean. And he finally knows Dean loves him.

  
  



End file.
